


filled with all the strength I found

by fuscience



Series: five times i've loved you [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, more dialogue, quippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Felicity uses technology and the one time Oliver won’t let her</p>
            </blockquote>





	filled with all the strength I found

**Author's Note:**

> These are not in chronological order for the most part. And this is my favorite because I've managed to include Barry and Thea - two of my favorite people to interact with Felicity.

 

 

I. Tablet

 

“Don’t look at me!”

“Felicity.”

She’s walking away, “Don’t look at me!”

“I’m definitely going to keep looking at this!” Oliver shouts at her waving the tablet in the air.

Now she’s storming back to him, “Don’t look at any of me!” and now she's grabbing the tablet from him. Violently.

Oliver’s smiling widely and reaches out to grab her hand so that she faces him and can’t leave.

“Felicity. It’s amazing.”

“It’s stupid. I was so humiliated.” She thrusts her lip out in a chidish pout, brows creasing together in frustration.

“Felicity." He looks down at her affectionately, "It’s second place.”

“And I am a highly intelligent, highly _competitive_ computer nerd. Do you have any idea how obnoxious it is to lose to a guy in a computer science contest?”

“No.” He knows now is not the right time to laugh, but it's dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“That was rhetorical. You lose to nearly everyone when it comes to technology.” She bites out roughly.

“Hey! I managed before you came.”

“Yeah, managed like a waffle without maple syrup.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you spent five years away from _any_ OS upgrade, Oliver Queen.”  She looks down, blonde hair falling like a cover around her face and glasses slipping to the tip of her nose. The tablet displays a picture from the MIT website dated 2009, five college students - one dyed blonde, glasses wearing girl and four unrecognizable males - crowded around a platform holding a second place plaque. “I hated this contest. We had to work in teams, but I wanted to win it so badly. You know what happened? They voted this dingbat, the one in the middle, holding the award, to be the team captain and he was an absolute dick - they all were basically. I was the only girl on the team and all I can remember about this whole debacle is that nearly all my ideas got tossed.” Felicity drew herself up to full height and looked him dead in the eye, “You want to know how we got second place?”

Oliver is very unsure of what the correct answer is here because she's keeps getting angrier and he hasn’t seen her this mad since she became his executive assistant and the coffee machine mysteriously broke.

“Yes?” he replies hesitantly.

She lifts her head up at him, raising a finger into the air with a slightly manic look in her eye and Oliver quickly lifts his hands in defense, “Because _I_ decided to stay up the entire night before the deadline, hack into the contest database, and do complete overhauls on the submitted program. The only satisfying part was the look on their faces when the program was displayed for the conference hall and none of those misogynistic computer snobs even recognized the code.” She looks absolutely triumphant for a second before her face falls into dissapointment. “My code only got second though. I had to keep parts of their code intact or else it would be too suspicious.” She blanched, as if disgusted by the idea of her computer skills coming in contact with someone lessers. Oliver supposes she probably is appalled based off of the way she manhandles anyone who comes near her tech.

Diggle walks in and sees Felicity advancing on Oliver, her finger in the air and his arms up in a surrender position. He raises an eyebrow at the pair, “Did I miss something?”

Oliver looks over and deadpans, “I’m being educated on the finer points of Girls Rule and Boys Drool among academics.”

“I don’t even know what you two do when I’m not here.” Diggle states. Oliver shrugs silently. “Let him go, Felicity. Oliver is aware of how horrible some guys are - he used to be one of them.”

At this, Oliver sideswipes her pointed finger and moves his body around to Felicity’s side, “But I’m not anymore, right?” He puts on his best charming Ollie smile, the type that used to melt panties off of women. Felicity gives him dead fish eyes behind her glasses, but generously allows a tight-lipped smile and nods her head in agreement, “For the most part.”

Diggle chuckles off to the side and walks towards the mats,  “Come on, Prince Charming.”

Oliver smiles and nods before leaning his head down to Felicity’s head, “For the record, I think anyone who doesn’t listen to you is an idiot.”

She smiles and keeps her head tucked down, “Including you?”

“ _Especially_ me.”

 

II. Computer

 

It is a lot colder in Russia than Felicity expected. Oh sure, she’s bundled up so tight that she’s got more layers than the cake she baked the last time she got drunk, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t goosepimples running across her arms and legs.

‘Speaking of drinks,’ Felicity thinks, ‘a little Russian vodka sure would’ve warmed her up if _someone_ had had the courtesy of including her in their little boys-only bar run.’

She stands on the platform alone and decides the hotel is probably well-versed in alcohol. It’s Russia after all.

Felicity is lounging on her bed with a nice glass of red wine, not-so-regretfully charged to Oliver’s company card. Her head is propped up on pillows that probably cost more than her entire couch and Felicity’s personal laptop, also courtesy of Oliver’s charge card, perches on her breasts, even with her eyeline. Diggle and Oliver come walking in on this scene and stare at her for a moment.

“What?” When they don't answer, she sits up into a cross-legged position and places her laptop on the bed. “So, what’s the four-one-one on Russian prisons?”

“Russia doesn’t like drugs.” John grunts out.

“We’ve secured a shipment of drugs that Diggle will use to get arrested. We have a man inside who will help him escape, he grabs Lyla and we meet him at a rendezvous point where we blow up a wall to give them passage to an armored car we’ll drive inside the prison gates.”

“That plan…” She cringes.

“We know it isn’t good Felicity, but we don’t have a choice.” Diggle stares her down with hard eyes.

“I know she’s your friend - “

“She’s not just a friend Felicity, she was my wife.”

Felicity looks forlornly at him with big blue eyes. She knows that both these men have scars, and that the worst ones are hidden where eyes can’t see them. “What happened?” She inquires softly.

“We met overseas in Afghanistan and got married. After my second tour we decided to come stateside, but apparently we couldn’t make it without a war, peace ended up being our undoing.” His eyes darkened with pain, “This isn’t something I can walk away from, it isn’t even something I can slow down with. I have to get her back Felicity.”

Felicity’s mouth moves into a hard line, “What do you need?”

Oliver steps in now, “We need layouts, access to the security cameras - all of them, the guard rotation, and anything you can get on the prisoners and where they might be holding her. We need it by tonight.”

Felicity smiles and pulls her laptop in front of her pulling up several programs, an html text input box, and the prison website.  She begins to type.

“So I’m going to start several programs, the Russians are surprisingly adept at computer science, but they don’t seem to really care about their prison cyber security - its only a few pages of python -” she pauses, “Guess they think guns and tanks and government issued licenses to kill would be enough to prevent breakouts and no one would be stupid enough to break in.” Her hands hit the keyboard again, faster.  “So the programs will have to run through very little code. The backdoors don’t even have a metaphorical lock,” she laughs, “They’re barely encrypted. There’s a face recognition software going through the employee database and prisoner log, I’ve got another one delving into any blueprints that show up and also a trigger software that will forward any hits on ‘Lyla’ or ‘American’ to our individual phones  over a secure network. Any questions?”

They stare at her again, nonplussed. Tough crowd.

“It will go ding when there’s stuff.” Felicity dismisses them.

“Oh yes of course.” John’s tone is completely flat, ever the straight man, as he walks towards the door, letting his arms drift to his side. “Well call me when there’s stuff.”

“John!” He turns his head slightly to her voice, “We’ll get her out. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us.”

“We won’t fail her. Or you.” Oliver adds, maybe remembering his abandonment of Diggle during the last Deadshot encounter.

“Thank you” He nods at them.

“Team Arrow.” Felicity says, dipping her head at him.

“Team Arrow.” Diggle repeats before walking out of the room.

“Team Arrow?” Oliver looks at her questioning.

“It’s a great moniker. And everyone needs one - boosts morale.”

“I don’t think we need one.”

“We do.”

Oliver shakes his head, not even willing to start something over this, and crawls into bed, laying down next to her, before closing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Felicity asks, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

“Grabbing some shut eye.” Oliver states simply.

Felicity can’t help but side-eye him suspiciously, thinking of where he’ll have to go if he leaves this room. “And hiding out from Ms. Rochev?”

He opens one eye to stare at her and sighs, “Yes.”

“Go. Do your work - don’t let her think we’re here for anything except business.”

He sits up, “Are you sure?”

“As much as I would love to have you stay in my bed.” She freezes, mouth open, and closes her eyes. He’s sure she’s counting down from three. Her eyes open and they are impossibly blue, magnified by her tortoiseshell frames. “There’s nothing more you can do here, and it’s important we make sure she doesn’t think any less of you than she already does.”

He gives a tiny laugh and climbs off of the mattress, “Come get me as soon as there’s… stuff.”

“Will do. See you later.”

“Team Arrow reconvenes in two hours.”

He closes the door to her tinkling laughter.

 

III.  Webcam

 

Barry Allen’s face stares out from the screen, haunting Oliver like some ridiculously tall teddy bear. Oliver hangs from the salmon ladder, hauling his body up and down, up and down, like a well-oiled machine. He waits for a glance from Felicity, she always sneaks a peek when he’s hanging shirtless above her, but not today. Felicity has eyes for no one but the giant kid speaking to her 250 miles away. Barry's hands are flailing about in excitement and her laugh floats up above, hitting Oliver like a strong punch to the gut. Oliver grunts on the next lift and drops an arm to hang there.

“Could you keep it down?” He barks out.

Felicity swivels her chair to look up at him, a soft smile that has nothing to do with Oliver still lingering on her lips. “What is your problem Grumpy Arrow?”

Felicity had taken to adding an adjective, describing his mood, to the beginning of his vigilante name every so often. Yesterday had been Caffeinated Arrow, Wednesday had been Mopey Arrow, he thinks Sunday was Lazy? or maybe Slave-driving? Oliver found it amusing, but he can’t seem to find the smile that normally comes from her silly name game.

“I’m fine.” He replies pointedly. It’s none of his business if she uses her free time to come to Verdant and use the lair computer’s to contact anyone. It’s not like he bought all these computers. Or owns the club. Or, you know, plans illegal vigilante business between these four walls.

“I’ve got Barry on the line, come say hi. He’s got some interesting things going on in Central that you might want to hear about.” She raises her eyebrows twice in a secret, enticing manner and watches Oliver drop to the floor.

“Hi Mr. Queen!” Barry shouts from the screen, accidently knocking over his webcam, but managing to catch and replace it before he can really blink. “Done any heroing lately?”

“No.” He picks up a towel off the floor and begins to wipe the sweat off his face. Felicity looks concerned and narrows her eyes at his terse answer. She gets up to walk towards him, Barry’s head floats behind her watching.

“Hey,” she approaches, heels clicking, until she’s close enough that he can count the stripes on her brightly colored eyeglass frames. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” He bites out and her eyes recoil with hurt and a touch of anger. Oliver storms out before he has to hear her yell at him. It’s not her fault he’s angry, he already knows that. If Oliver could control his rage a lot of his problems would already be solved, not in the least the ones that involve him lashing out at people who don’t deserve it.

Felicity stares after him, baffled and infuriated.

“What’s wrong with him?” Barry presses.

“Nothing except he’s apparently in need of a huge attitude adjustment.” She huffs and sits down, the excitement from Barry’s news fading.

“He’ll come around.” Barry encourages, “Probably having a bad day.”

“Forget it. We can tell him later when he feels like acting less like a neanderthal and more like a modern day human.” Felicity focuses back on the wide, open, friendly face in front of her.

“So,” she chirps, “ _How fast are you moving now?_ ”

 

IV. Television

 

The Queen mansion is a veritable fortress, and, unlike the rest of Team Arrow, Felicity has little experience with physically infiltrating heavy security. Luckily, being Oliver Queen’s assistant means that with a little persuasion and little executive assistant badge flashing the guards acquiesce to her request to sit in the parlor and wait for Oliver to arrive home. Felicity is well aware that he won’t be back until late, but she has no other way to contact him until he finishes up with his Bratva associates. She continually checks the beeping dot on her phone that indicates his position.

The other thing about walking into a mansion is that it’s big. Like mythical beast big, blue whale big, I-have-more-money-in-my-bank-account-than-a-small-country big. She ends up in the kitchen where Thea Queen sits perched on a bar stool pushed up to the kitchen counter. Their eyes catch and Felicity freezes squeaking out a surprised “Hi.”

Thea’s eyes widen a bit. “Hi.”

The silence overcomes them for a bit, with Felicity’s eyes tracing the wood paneling and flicking back and forth between what is probably pure mahogany to the eighteen year old heiress of the Queen fortune.

“If you’re looking for my brother he’s not here.”

“I know. I’m waiting. I have, uh, papers for him. Emergency documents faxed in from his holdings in Paris.” Far more information than Thea probably needed or even wanted, but details are often Felicity’s friends and she uses them. Details like the faxes concern illegal holdings from a Starling City embezzler, though, stay exactly where they need to - in Felicity's big, brilliant brain.

“Uh huh." Thea looks at her, eyes suspicious, probably much too used to how her brother's late night female callers used to be. "Assistant, right?

Felicity gives a tight, embarrassed smile - the title still doesn’t sit well with her. “Yep. That's me, overpaid, overqualified secretary.” It’s silent again and this makes Felicity very, very uncomfortable.

“What are you sitting here for?”

Thea's head jerks up, surprised that Felicity initiated more conversation, and then manages a wry smile “Like you, waiting for my boyfriend. Guys can be a pain sometimes”

“Oh.” Felicity does a double-take. “Oh! I’m not…! Oliver and I aren’t… I mean.. I’m his assistant with stuff, IT stuff and paperwork stuff and we’re not… I would never. Not that you’re brother isn’t worth canoodling with! He's gorgeous. That's not sexual harrassment, just a fact. But no. I don’t need to make all the work rumours come true and further throw any career I could possibly have into the depths of a thousand gossip-filled break rooms. Oliver and I are friends.” Felicity stumbles over her words again, “Just. Friends.”

“Ha.” Thea laughs lightly, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone use the word canoodling who’s under the age of fifty.”

Felicity grins. Thea might not completely believe her, but apparently she at least approves of Felicity’s vernacular.

“I like old movies.”

“Movies! That’s what we’re gonna do.” Thea stands from the bar and moves to the pantry. She disappears into the giant room full of dry goods before reappearing with a packet of Orden Redenbacher popcorn. “I’m waiting. You’re waiting. We’re both waiting for idiots who are missing out on a good night with two girls to be on the dirty streets of Starling City and that’s no reason to not have a good time.”

Felicity is amused and not sure it’s entirely appropriate to watch movies with Oliver’s baby sister, but appropriate has never exactly been her flavor of life. Thea takes her by the hand and leads Felicity to the movie room. Because of course the Queens have an entire movie theatre in their house.

 

\-----------------------------

 

“You all are the type of family that just breeds excellence and only makes everyone angry. In a good way.” Felicity exclaims lightly as they discuss tabloids' depiction of the Queen family

“Oh yes, we’re excellent at drinking, lying - especially the lying, and, definitely, pissing people off.” Thea counts off on her fingers on one hand while flipping through the TV guide with the remote in her other. “These rag mags aren’t exactly far off with their reports.”

Felicity comes to the startling conclusion that Oliver is not the only Queen child suffering from a guilt-complex over things that are far removed from their control.

“You’re good people. You and Oliver both.” she states firmly.

Thea glances over at her shyly, reminding Felicity that the girl is only eighteen and a full seven years younger than her.

“Thanks.” Thea whispers, as if she is tentative to believe in Felicity’s words. The movie guide begins moving again.

They don’t look at each other and Felicity lets out a quick, “Oh!” when the Wizard of Oz flashes on the screen. Thea pauses and looks at her.

“Wizard of Oz? That what you want?”

Felicity smiles and replies, “Yeah, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, always a fan of the classics. Walter used to love making me sit down with him and watch old movies. He preferred British theater though.”

“Walter is a very kind person.”

“Yeah. He is.” Thea smiles at the acknowledgement of her stepfather before clicking the remote and starting the movie. They munch on the popcorn and Felicity is glad she’s wearing pants so that her legs can curl up on the couch after kicking off her sensible panda flats. The movie makes them laugh and smile and they share secret grins when a favorite part comes on. Thea loves the flying monkeys and Felicity admits that her favorite part is when the house falls on the Wicked Witch - it cracks her up. Felicity finds out that Thea has never had marshmallows melted into her popcorn or cake batter mixed in and Thea shares that their Russian nursemaid used to insist that popcorn be made with a pan over the large fireplace. When it’s over Felicity is a little sad, but extremely happy that Oliver or Thea’s boyfriend never arrived to interrupt.

“So, as good as you remembered? You like it?” Thea asks.

“Yeah. I’ve always loved it.”

“So that’s your type of movie?” Thea presses for a more direct answer on her feelings towards the movie. Although, now it feels like her attempts to wheedle  more information out of the pretty blonde assistant with the great personality and brains to boot.

“Well, I, it uh reminds me of people I know, very relatable movie.” Felicity stammers.

“Who?” Thea inquires, Felicity’s hesitation not even slowing down her questions a bit. “Who does it remind you of?”

Felicity pauses because she can’t really get into it without discussing certain nighttime activities between her and Thea’s brother, disregarding how Thea already seems to think Oliver and her spend their nights.

“Uh. People.”

Felicity can’t tell Thea that Oliver reminds her of the characters, all looking for strengths they already had because they believe so fully in their own weaknesses.

“You can tell me. It’s not like I’ll recognize anyone.” Thea sees Felicity tense and then grins like the cat that caught the canary, “Unless I do? It’s my brother. Gotta be my brother, he’s the only person I think we have in common. Who does he remind you of?”

Felicity is panicking a little, trying to think of how she can justify her thoughts.

“Just. Um. How no one believes in him. Not even Oliver himself.” Thea stays silent and waits for her to continue. Felicity clears her throat and continues steadier. “Everyone thinks he’s this dumb kid who’s trying to fill his father and stepfather’s big shoes, but no one sees the overtime he puts in or the hours he spends reading his old business textbooks. And he acts like he doesn’t care, like none of this hurts him and he doesn’t have a heart, but I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that it all doesn’t weigh very heavy on his shoulders. Oliver is so much more intelligent and brave and kind than anyone thinks of him.”

“He didn’t used to be like that.” Thea adds dryly, “I love and adore my brother, but I know he was an ass.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s kind of what makes him so great now" she pauses, "because he’s come so far.”

Thea nods in agreement and a slamming door alerts them to someone’s entry. Oliver stamps his feet on the entryway, scraping away the remnants of snow. He hears the murmur of the television and follows it until he sees the edge of light peeking out from underneath the sliding theatre doors. When he opens them Thea and Felicity stare back at him with unsurprised expressions.

“What?” he says, eyebrows raised, looking between the two.

“Nothing.” Thea answers. She gets up off the plush red couch Felicity and her had shared for the evening and glides towards the doors before stalling near the entryway next to her brother. Laying a hand on his shoulder she shoots him a hidden thumbs up. “Not bad big brother. I like her. Don’t screw it up”

Oliver watches Thea slink out of the movie theatre with curious eyes before looking at Felicity, meeting her bright baby blues over the rim of her glasses. Felicity looks at him, unsure of what Thea said. He smiles.

 

V.

 

When Oliver finds her the following day, she is determinedly not looking at anything. Her eyes stare glazed over at the computer screen and her fingers still when he enters the room. She is wearing black yoga pants and a long sleeve grey shirt. He makes sure his walk his louder than normal so she doesn’t startle, even dragging his fingers against one of the metal tables. When he finally stands behind her she slowly turns the chair to face him, but doesn’t look at him. He licks his lips and swallows, before reaching to trace the fading red marks on the side of her neck, barely-there marks left from a madman's megalomania. Oliver gently takes her hand and tugs her into a standing position. She doesn’t offer much resistance. He leads her over to the mats, the typically boys-only workout area where she rarely ventures unless its to sneak surreptitious glances at John’s arms or Oliver’s chest. Oliver drags out a long roll of white linen before lifting her hands. He slowly wraps them, cradling them and letting the white tape follow the curves of her wrist, palmand then tracing each individual finger. Felicity continues to stare listlessly

“Hit me.”

Felicity head jerks back and she raises a questioning eyebrow, “As much as I love touching you, I always imagined it would be in a less violent manner. “ She pauses, “Not that, you know, I imagine things, I just… um.” Felicity runs her hand over the crown of her head into her hair like she’s done a thousand times when she’s flustered and unsure.

He saves her from her flummox, “Hit this then” Oliver backs up behind the patched, red punching bag to his right.

“I don’t… Oliver I don’t want to hit anything.”  He reaches over and raises her hands into a defensive position.

“But maybe you need it.”

Her hands drop and she frowns, lines tugging on the edge of her lips and looking so impossibly tired.

“Felicity.” He keeps saying her name like he’s trying to remind her of something.

“Fel - “ He pauses when the bag moves, “Well then.”

She doesn’t respond and just hits the bag, it is worn and taped - beaten - and her fists won’t even leave the tiniest of blemishes - what she does, who she is, won’t leave any marks. Big, fat tears start rolling down Felicity’s cheek and dripping off her chin.

“Felic - “

“Stop.” Her fists keep going, slowly now, but still going and going, “Stop saying my name like I'm going to break. I’m not.” She stresses, “I’m a strong. independent. intelligent. woman.” Felicity punctuates each word with a hard punch. “We won. He lost. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

She stops and spins suddenly, turning her back on Oliver to go angrily sit down once again in her chair.

Oliver follows after and places a hand on her shoulder, she shrugs it off. He then grabs the head of her chair, pulling so it swivels to face him, before kneeling down in front of her. His hands rest on the chair's arms, centimeters between her fingertips and his. Felicity opens her mouth to protest.

“When I was on the Island.” She stops and presses her lips together in silence. Oliver doesn’t talk about the Island much. So, when he does, it’s means something.

He clears his throat.

“When I was on the Island, I was so angry. I was angry at the boat for sinking, at my father for dying. I was angry at the Island for existing and I wanted it all to just disappear. I was angry for so long that there were - are - times where I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop. Sometimes, I’m afraid.”

His tongue sweeps out to wet his lips and she takes the moment to lay her hands on top of his.

“I’m afraid that my rage will consume me. That I will never be able to be anything. Anything but angry.”

At this point he flips their hands, leaving her palms up and allowing his thumbs to rest in the grooves of her lifeline.

“I don’t want you to feel like that. I’m not sure what I can do but I want to know that you’ll let me do it?”

Her breath fans over his face as Oliver looks up and manages to capture Felicity’s eyes.

“I’m sorry he took you. I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m infuriated that he touched you.” Oliver takes a huge breath and his tone turns to steel, “But I will always come for you Felicity, nothing will ever stop me from reaching you.”

She chokes a little bit and feels the mottled, raised skin on the back of his left hand, wonders how he got this scar, if it filled him with rage or sadness or regret or all three, imagines swords, knives, all the sharp things she dislikes impaling his hands. Her own hands withdraw from his and reach down to loop around his neck before hugging his head softly to her stomach.

“Thank you.” Felicity whispers into his hair, releasing a sigh that comes up from deep within her belly.

Oliver wraps his arms around her waist and tugs her into his lap where he sits on the ground, holding her like Oliver wishes someone had done for him when he’d been paralyzed by fear and anger and pain on the island.

Oliver’s arms are a safe haven, they protect and secure, and Felicity wraps her fingers into his shirt holding him like a lifeline. He buries his face in her dyed blonde curls and lays soft kisses into it, murmuring words of comfort, promises for the future.

Felicity feels safe and strong and _loved_.

* * *

The next day she sits at the computer, her voice confident and commanding as she directs Oliver and John towards the target. There is one close call and the early warning from Felicity is very much appreciated. When her two friends are on their way back, Felicity taps into the comms.

“Oliver.”

“Yeah?”

She’s silent for a minute and he waits, “I just wanted to thank you.”  

He simply shaking his head, forgetting she can't see him. “You always save me Felicity.” He wishes he was a little better with words, to make her understand, “Yesterday was only what I wanted to do”

Felicity’s lips curl faintly, “Well thank you anyway.”

_“Always.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some changes to canon obviously, especially concerning the Keep Your Enemies Closer episode. And I do not know computer programming I just threw terms in their to make it sound jargony. I've got one more started but it might be a few days before I finish!


End file.
